


A Bit of Madness with Your Tea?

by UNCPanda



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:24:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9465242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UNCPanda/pseuds/UNCPanda
Summary: Alfred Pennyworth could say with certainty that he hadn't been prepared to suddenly take on a child all those years ago. Now, with another child in the Manor, Alfred still isn't prepared, but at least he has some experience. And this time he hopes to stop the madness early. Then Harleen Quinzel walked in, and that dream went to hell.





	1. Dr. Harleen Quinzel

Alfred J. Pennyworth liked to be prepared. He liked to blame it on his military training, but the truth was he had always been that way. So, when he came to work at Wayne Manor, he did his best to prepare for any and all situations; robberies, kidnappings, ransom demands. He considered it his job to protect the Wayne family, especially young Master Bruce. 

The boy had been all of two years old when Alfred had come to the Manor, and despite his usual dislike for children, he had rather quickly found that Bruce Wayne was different. He was a quiet child. He smiled, and he laughed, but he was so different from others his age. He was content to be by himself, or with his parents, or even with Alfred himself. More than once the child had sat on the counter and tried to steal licks of cookie dough while Alfred baked. 

The one thing Alfred had not prepared for was death. Death happened on the battlefield, in wars. It was not supposed to happen in a city, behind a theatre. Alfred knew that it wasn’t all bad, Master Bruce was so much more fortunate than others in his situation, but Alfred didn’t know how to deal with a mourning child. 

He had seen the hints of obsession early on. The drive to find his parents’ killer, to fulfill his parents’ dream for Gotham. Personally, Alfred had wanted to take the boy and run as far from the god-forsaken city as possible. At the very least he wanted the boy to talk to someone. Bruce wouldn’t hear of either.

Then one day, several years later, he was simply gone. Alfred had manned the empty manor for years, waiting for his charge to come home. Occasionally, he received a letter, weeks after it had been written. Then, his boy had come home. He was harder than when he left. There was glint of steel in his gaze now, and a determined set to his jaw. And then he told Alfred his plan, and the older man was certain he had not only failed in his parenting, but failed miserably. 

It took him all of six seconds to decide to go along with it. At the very least, he might be able to contain some of the damage, or even talk his boy out of it. Neither of those worked out as he had hoped, and Alfred allowed himself to fall into the madness. 

And then Bruce had done something he had never imagined, he brought home a little boy. More than once over the years Alfred had dreamed of Bruce getting married, and having little children. He had dreamed of the manor coming alive with a family again. He’d given up those dreams when the Batman had emerged. Any person who would be willing to put up with that madness would have to be certifiable after all. 

Still, young Master Richard restored a small glimmer of hope in Alfred’s heart. The boy was more receptive than Bruce had been, a bit more cheerful. Alfred swore that he wouldn’t let this child go down the same path. Then the boy had become Robin, and Alfred knew he had to act. Richard Grayson was going to grief counseling if it killed him.  
So, Alfred began the search, despite the protests of both his charges. Dick had visited five different therapists, rejecting each one. As Alfred walked the boy into the office of number six, he prayed this one would work out. As it was, it had only been the threat of forcing Bruce into therapy and forbidding any Robin activities that had gotten his charges’ compliance. He was getting much too old for this.

Removing his coat, Alfred signed Richard in and they began the wait. It was only a matter of minutes before the door opened, and pretty young woman stepped out. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and her glasses sat slightly askew on her face, but her smile was sincere. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the woman capture Richard’s attention. He watched the boy relax as she smiled at him, and came to greet him. Bending down to his level, she stuck out her hand and said, “You must be Richard, I’m Dr. Quinzel, but you can call me Harleen, if you’d like.” 

Alfred watched as the boy studied her for a minute before taking her hand and smiling, “Hi Harleen, I’m Dick, and that’s Alfred.” 

Alfred nearly sagged with relief at the introduction. Instead, he stood and shook the woman’s hand, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Quinzel.”


	2. Panic Attacks and Pillow Fights

“Take a deep breath, in through your nose, hold it for three seconds, and then exhale through your lips. Make sure to relax your muscles. Yep, just like that Bruce.” 

Dick wasn’t exactly sure what had brought on the sudden panic attack, but the very fact that Bruce was shaken at all was enough to unnerve the young Robin. Crouching down, so that he was eye level with Bruce, Dick copied the action, making sure that he didn’t get light headed. 

When Bruce finally stood, Dick made sure to keep an eye on him. He watched as Bruce staggered just a bit, before he regained his footing. Dick made sure to stay close enough that if the bigger man did go down, he could at least soften the blow. 

When Bruce headed straight back to the batmobile, instead of to the roof tops, Dick knew that the older man wasn’t going to tell him the whole story. Instead of bugging his adoptive father for details, he simply slid into the passenger seat, and pressed the autopilot. It would be up to Alfred now. 

Sure enough, the butler zoomed in on Bruce as soon as the man stumbled out of the batmobile. Dick took a seat in front of the bat computer, and watched as Alfred chastised Bruce. Dick loved this part. The older man was the only person on earth who could get away with telling Bruce what to do, or denying one of his whims. 

Even after a year with this little rag, tag family Dick still smiled any time Alfred lectured Bruce. Of course he didn’t like it nearly as much when it was himself on the other end. Although, he was certain that he’d seen Bruce smirk once or twice while it was happening. Like his mother had always said, things always come back around. 

“And you, Master Dick, are you hurt at all?” 

Dick snapped out of his thoughts to see Alfred snap on a pair of latex gloves. That was when he noticed the small wound on Bruce’s shoulder. It was relatively small, too small to be a bullet hole. Still the young boy couldn’t help but scowl, because he hadn’t noticed it. Never mind that the armor, cape and darkness would have made it virtually impossible, Bruce had been hurt, and he hadn’t noticed until a near panic attack has set in. 

“I didn’t notice either,” Bruce’s voice was calm, despite the fact that his breathing was still labored. 

Dick removed the mask covering his eyes, so that Bruce could see the skeptical look on his face, “You didn’t?” 

The small smile on Bruce’s face immediately set Dick on edge, “Not until the delusions started setting in.” 

Dick’s eyes went wide, “Fear toxin?” 

Bruce nodded, and Dick slid out of the chair to approach his adoptive father. He met Bruce’s gaze, and held it. He and Bruce had a lot in common, almost as much as they didn’t. But near the top of the list was their fear of the stupid fear toxin. It had a way of bringing back one’s worse memories, and for each cure they found, Scarecrow seemed to come up with a brand new one. To be quite frank, it sucked. 

Acting quickly, Dick shed his gloves before he reached out and quickly took Bruce’s hand. At the slightly puzzled look, Dick just smiled and explained, “Skin contact from someone we care about and trust is supposed to help through panic attacks. I think the same applies to this.” 

The small smile Bruce sent him, made Dick beam, “Yep, Doc Harley said so.” 

Bruce’s hand tightened ever so slightly on Dick’s as the boy scooted onto the gurney beside him. Dick spent the next hour talking, doing his best to keep Bruce focused on anything but the delusions trying to seep in. Eventually, he fell fast asleep. 

Bruce smiled down at the boy who was fast asleep. Dick’s head rested against his bicep, as he started to lightly snore, “Fast asleep at only three AM, my oh my, whatever shall we do?” 

Bruce glanced over at the butler, the man who raised him, and who was in more ways than one, his father, “I know you don’t approve.” 

“Oh nonsense master Bruce. It’s every parent’s dream to see their child dawn a costume and mask and fight the scum of the city. Much more interesting than weddings or grandchildren.” 

It took everything Bruce had to not laugh at the sarcastic remark. Still, he had no doubt that Alfred caught the uptick of his lips, “Dick doesn’t count as a grandchild?” 

“Maybe once you start acting like a father?” 

Bruce winced at that shot, but he couldn’t necessarily rebuff it. He had made it a point to be around for Dick’s training every day. He made it a point to see him. But it was still . . . difficult. It was hard to let someone else in. Someone that could easily be killed. A chance made even greater by his allowing Dick to be Robin.

Which was why in the past several months, he had made sure to put some distance between them. Weekend only patrols for Dick. Late work nights for himself. He was sure Dick’s therapist would have something to say . . . if he had ever been the one to take him. Yet another reason Bruce stayed far away from the doctor’s office.

As the last of the fear toxin cleared from his bloodstream, Bruce stood up. His eyes briefly went to the needle sitting in the metal bin, before they moved back to Dick. The needle was tempting. Despite it’s small size it had somehow pierced his cape and armor to find a home in his skin. Not to mention there was still the conundrum of how the fear toxin had found it’s way onto the needle, since scarecrow was still in Arkham. 

Then his eyes went to Dick, and memories of the delusion came back. Unlike every other time the serum hadn’t taken him back to his parent’s death. Instead, a new fear had come forward, one of his boy being killed.  


He could feel Alfred’s eyes on him, waiting for him to make a decision. The wrong decision. Alfred was waiting for him to run. The idea of distance was tempting, more than he wanted to admit, but maybe it was time to run towards his fear.  


Moving forward, he slipped his arms under the eight year old, and made his way towards the stairs. Smiling as Dick snuggled in towards his body warmth, he turned towards Alfred and simply said, “Goodnight Alfred. Make sure you get some sleep.”  


Alfred simply gave him a small smile and said, “Goodnight Master Bruce.”  


Bruce deposited Dick in his room, before shuffling to his own room. It would be a fair assessment that he was asleep before his head hit the pillow. Simple proof of how tired he actually was. Which was why, when the curtains in his room were thrown open at eight am, and the sun streamed in, he was more than a little annoyed.  


When Dick started yelling at him to get up, that she was here Bruce got even more annoyed. Still, he screwed his eyes shut and pulled the covers up over his head. Which is why, when that pillow hit him square on the head, he wasn’t prepared. 

Immediately, his eyes flashed open, and the covers were thrown back to reveal a smirking Dick Grayson. He already had the pillow raised for another strike, and as he surged forward with a battle cry, Bruce grabbed the other spare pillow and met him head on. 

They were so involved in their little fight, Bruce didn’t even realize they weren’t alone until suddenly the attack was coming from two sides. When Dick finally wrestled the pillow away from him, claiming victory, Bruce saw her for the first time. 

She was dressed in jeans, and a button down shirt, appropriate for Gotham’s winter. Her glasses sat slightly askew on her nose, while her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. The pillow dangled from her hands, while a smirk dangled on her lips. That was when she stuck her hand out and simply said, “Dr. Harleen Quinzell, it’s nice to finally meet you Bruce.”


	3. Pillow Fights and Bull Shit

Bruce Wayne was an odd man. Harleen had realized it the first time she’d seen him on T.V. The smile was false, and she could see it in his eyes, the longing to be anywhere but in front of the camera. No one else seemed to notice it. He had charm, and a charisma that drew people to him. Everyone wanted to shake hands with him, and he was always in the news.

At least he had been until recently. With the adoption of one Richard Grayson, the billionaire hadn’t stepped out as much lately. There’d been more than a few articles inquiring about his adoption of the boy.

Harleen had been on her way to Arkham, when she’d received a last-minute request for a special client. She was a recent graduate, smart, with excellent recommendations, and she couldn’t help but wonder why she’d been chosen in those first few days.

There were plenty of excellent therapists within Gotham. High profile therapists. Ones that would have costs hundreds per hour, and would have groveled for the job. She found out rather quickly that they had indeed, tried those people first. But Dick had refused to speak. That was when Mr. Pennyworth had sought her out. She was younger, and Dick had claimed she seemed nice when looking through profiles.

The job at Arkham wasn’t going anywhere, so she had stayed, almost certain that after three sessions the boy would open up, and the butler would insist on switching. She’d been half right, Dick had opened up. He came in with a smile, and talked the entire hour. The boy was smart, and clever, and so sweet Harleen just wanted to wrap him in bubble wrap and ensure his safety.  

After two months, her schedule became fuller. More and more people were seeking out the same therapist as Bruce Wayne’s adopted son. Apparently, Mr. Pennyworth had been very complimentary about her skills. She could have done without it in all honesty. She liked working with Dick because he was honest, and down to earth. Many of her other patients were spoiled, and fishing for information. Harleen had perfected, what she liked to call her bull shit smile, in a matter of days. It reminded her of the one Bruce Wayne put on.

She was curious about the billionaire. He was hiding something, and not just who he was sleeping with. A billionaire playboy, with enough money to buy the world, didn’t just adopt an eight-year-old boy. Eight year olds were known for being cock blockers. And if Bruce Wayne was who he appeared to be on the surface, she doubted he’d had even glanced in the boy’s direction. She needed to know more.

Dick was reluctant to talk about him at first, and she hadn’t pressured him. He’s started talking about him on his own. “He’s a lot like me Harleen. His parents died when he was eight too. Alfred says he’s a recluse. He’s scared to let people get close. He started pushing me away too. He’s been working a lot of late nights, and early mornings.”

Harleen had listened quietly, before reassuring Dick it had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with being scared. When he’d brought up Bruce’s panic attacks, she had taught him ways to calm down. It had hit her late one night, that she was treating Bruce Wayne long distance. She’d laughed for five minutes straight.  

Still, if Dick was to have a healthy childhood, Bruce Wayne needed to be involved. One didn’t take in a child without accepting responsibility for said child. It was time to man up. So finally, she had confronted Mr. Pennyworth. She had approached him with a fierceness she didn’t realize she had, and plainly stated, “I’ll be dropping by this Saturday to speak to Mr. Wayne. You can expect me at eleven.”

The butler had quirked a smile and simply said, “Of course Ms. Quinn. I’ll prepare lunch. Is chicken salad acceptable.”

“More than.” And as she had walked away, Harleen couldn’t help but feel that she was being played.

She’d arrived promptly, and had been welcomed with a smile from Mr. Pennyworth, and a child’s squeals from upstairs. She hadn’t even asked permission, before taking the stairs two at a time and following the laughter down the hallway. What she had found, made her smile. The pillow fight was one of dreams, and reminded her of something in a movie. Father and son both smiling while hitting each other with pillows.

She hadn’t been able to help herself. She’d simply picked up one of the discarded pillows and swung. She’d made contact with Bruce Wayne’s head. She’d met his surprised gaze head on, tossed a smile at Dick, stuck her hand out, and said, “Dr. Harleen Quinzell, it’s nice to finally meet you Bruce.”

Bruce stared at the woman for a minute, before reaching out and accepting her hand. This of course left him open to another attack, and before he could fully comprehend what was happening, he was being attacked from both sides. 

Minutes later the three of them had landed on the floor in a pile of laughter, only to be interrupted by a clearing of a throat. One look at Alfred told Bruce that he’d never live this moment down. Alfred would bring this up for years to come, and probably even mention it in his will. 

“Lunch will soon be ready. Dr. Quinzel, Master Dick if you would follow me to the dining area we’ll leave Master Bruce to get ready.” 

Before Bruce could say anything, Dick was pulling the doctor up and down the hallway. Glancing at Alfred, he asked, “Are you sure she’s a doctor?” 

Alfred’s smirk was telling, “Certain Master Bruce. But, do please remember, this woman is Master Dick’s therapist. She is not a new toy.” 

Bruce raised an eyebrow, “I’ve been better.” 

“Only because you’ve been a recluse. Drowning yourself in work, neglecting responsibilities.” 

“Alfred . . .” 

“One night is only the start Master Bruce. I’m looking to make it a pattern.” 

Bruce watched the butler go. He changed into a more casual outfit of slacks, and a button down before heading downstairs. Dr. Quinzel and Dick were seated on the outdoor patio, and Dick was talking enthusiastically.

Sitting down, Bruce listened as Dick talked about his week at school. It was near the end of the year, and in another month summer vacation would start. “And what about Rodney?” Dr. Quinzel asked when Dick finally stopped for a breath. 

The shift in the atmosphere was clear and abrupt. Bruce’s eyes slid to the boy, his face had become a blank slate; closed off. The smile never faded from the doctor’s face, “That good hunh?” 

Dick shrugged, “It’s not so bad. I stay under his radar in the halls, and I sit near the front in class. It doesn’t leave him many opportunities to get close.”    
“Is he still using derogatory terms?” 

Bruce’s brow knitted together, as he watched Dick shrug, “Not to my face, but I hear the whispers.” 

Bruce studied the doctor as she talked to Dick, coaxing him out of his sullen mood, while building him up. The anger was there, it was hidden, but it was there. Within no time Dick was back to his usual self. He talked all through lunch, asking questions, and sharing stories about the circus. 

As Bruce listened he realized exactly how much he didn’t know. He knew about Dick’s health, grades, extracurriculars, and his past; but he didn’t know anything personal. He didn’t know the little stories from his childhood, or how he loved history and math. 

And as Dick ran off to help Alfred with something, he knew he was about to get a dressing down. He expected anger the minute the boy left. Instead he watched as the doctor leaned back in her seat, and said, “It’s a big adjustment.” 

Bruce didn’t respond, and as she turned to smile at him, he realized she didn’t expect a response, “Going from a billionaire playboy to a full time father, I mean. It can’t be easy.” 

Immediately Bruce went on edge. People were always trying to get close to him; for power, or money, or a number of other things. And for a minute he entertained the thought that Dr. Quinzel was like the rest of them. Then that pretty smile faded and she unleashed hell like he had never seen. 

“You didn’t know any of it, did you Mr. Wayne? That he’s being bullied? That student’s are calling him derogatory names because of his heritage? Or that they’re teasing him for being a charity case? And if you don’t think he realizes that you’re avoiding him then you’re an idiot. And you certainly shouldn’t be in charge of a multi billion dollar corporation! That boy needs you, Mr. Wayne. He needs a family, and the minute you adopted him, you became his family. That means you need to pull your head out of your ass, and step the hell up.” 

By the time, she was done Harleen Quinzel’s breathing was ragged. And as minutes of silence creeped by she realized exactly what she’d just done. She had raged at one of the richest men in Gotham, a man that could end her career with a word. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to be sorry. 

She’d watched Bruce Wayne while Dick had talked. The man didn’t have a clue. It was a shame really. Underneath the childhood trauma, laid a man with a lot of love to give. But he was so scared of getting hurt, or losing someone that he had closed himself off. If Dick stood a chance at a normal childhood, of growing up loved, Bruce Wayne was going to have to face things head on. He was going to have to grow up.

So, she stood there, waiting for the yelling to start. Instead she got laughter. The laughter died off a moment later, and she watched as he scrubbed his hands against his face, “Two lectures within twenty four hours. I expected it from Alfred . . .not you.” 

She raised an eyebrow, “And why not.” 

He shrugged, “People haven’t been able to read me since I was a kid. When you’re in the spotlight enough you learn how to be someone else.”

“That bull shit smile isn’t as convincing as you think, Mr. Wayne.” 

“Mr. Wayne?” 

“I’ll call you Mr. Wayne until you start acting your age, and being the parent Dick deserves.” 

“I’m not his father.” 

“You’re the closest thing he has.”

“You can’t just replace a person’s parents.” 

“No one said you had to. I said you had to be a parent, someone who is there for Dick and looking out for his well being. That means actually getting to know him, and realizing when something is wrong. If you keep shutting yourself away, you’ll grow old and very alone Mr. Wayne. And in my opinion that’s not a good way to live.” 

Bruce said nothing. He simply sat in silence with Dr. Quinzel until Dick and Alfred came back out. 


	4. Too Close for Comfort

“So . . .how are things?”   
    Bruce simply stared at the woman in front of him, “That’s how this is going to go?”   
    The scowl he receives makes him want to laugh, and Harleen is quick to smooth her mouth into something of just general annoyance. “Last time I checked Mr. Wayne, you were the one to ask for these meetings. So far we’ve had three of them, and you’ve wasted my time, and your money each time.” It took everything he had to not scowl. He watched as Harleen set the clipboard to the side and leaned forward, “So my question is, why are you here?”   
    Bruce sighed. If only he knew the answer to that question himself. Part of it was the fact that Alfred and Dick had begged him to seek out help. He’d been doing a lot better lately, Alfred has said so. He’d made it a point to pick Dick up from school, take him on outings, help with homework, and be at dinner every night. Still, something was missing.   
    Harleen Quinzel had seemed to be a miracle worker in some respects. Dick seemed to worship the ground she walked on. Alfred seemed more than a little pleased with her. Bruce had been drawn to her for different reasons. She had been so . . .real. She hadn’t worried about impressing him, and she’d had no problem calling him on his crap. He’d been surrounded by fake people for so long that Harleen Quinzel was a breath of fresh air.   
    Leaning back in his seat Bruce finally admitted, “You’re different.”   
    “Tell me something I don’t know.”   
    Bruce allowed a small smile to grace his lips, “My entire life I have been surrounded by fake people. People who want something from me. No one has ever called me on anything. Until you.”  
He watched as the woman pursed her lips, before leaning back into her chair, “It took four sessions for you to admit that? You’re going to drive me to drink Mr. Wayne.”   
“I’m still Mr. Wayne?”   
“What part about four sessions do you not understand?”   
Bruce could only shrug, “Fair enough.”   
“So, I’m guessing your proximity to these people helped shape you.”   
“What do you think?”   
“You have a hard time trusting people. You trust your butler because your parents trusted him. You’re working on trusting Dick. Everyone else is a liability.”   
“What about you?”   
He watched her grin, “I’m an enigma. I don’t care about the money. I don’t care about your name. I was on my way to Arkham when Alfred’s request came through. Who knows, I might still end up there.”   
Bruce felt himself go rigid, “I wouldn’t recommend it.”   
“And why is that Mr. Wayne? Those people need help.”   
“Some of them. Some of them need to be locked away.”   
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”   
“I know better than most.” He was surprised at the bite in his voice. He watched as she shrunk back for a moment before surging forward.   
“No Mr. Wayne you really don’t. You see what the media wants you to. You don’t understand the workings of the inner mind, and I wouldn’t expect you to.”   
“No. I’ve simply seen the damage they’ve done. The people they’ve killed, and the families they have left devastated.”   
“They need help!”    
As if Bruce didn’t know that. That was why he sent them to Arkham. They could get help while being properly supervised. Or at least that was what he had hoped. With how many escapes there had been in the past several years, he doubted it.   
Bruce stood, this conversation was heading too far into his other life, and with her ability to see through him, it would only be a matter of time before she figured it out. He could see it in her eyes, the questions. The knowledge that she was onto something.He needed to stop this now. So, he stood up and walked out.  
~~~~~~~  
“You walked out on her?”   
Bruce grunted, “She was getting too close.”   
Alfred sighed, and counted backwards from ten in his head. He had raised Bruce Wayne. He knew of the boy’s need for secrecy. He understood his drive to protect the city. However, it also made him sad. He rarely let people in. He kept them at a distance.   
He had seen that slowly start to change with Master Dick. But he was scared that Dr. Quinzel’s trespass towards the Batman’s secret might have been too much. The fact that the woman had meant nothing by it, would mean nothing to Bruce. But talking the man would do no good. He knew this well.   
Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Master Dick bounded into the room. He watched as Bruce afforded the boy a smile, before pulling him in for a quick hug. He left them to their conversation. At least he wasn’t retreating too much.     
~~~~~~  
The halls of Arkham were stark white, bleak, and gave her the chills. She knew it was stubbornness, or perhaps it was spite. Still, she kept her back straight, and walked with a purpose. She wouldn’t bow to fear, or Bruce Wayne. Still, as she followed three armed guards past five security checkpoints, some little part of her couldn’t help but feel she was in over her head. And as she stepped into the room, and his yellow eyes focused in on her, she knew she was in trouble.   
~~~~~~  
   
“Alfred says you’re acting like a spoilt child.”   
Bruce glanced at his son, “Alfred doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”   
The scoff of irritation he received for that comment nearly made him smile. The visual pout Dick sent his way ended his efforts. Setting his paper down he did his best to explain, “The only way we get to do, what we need to do, is by keeping it a secret. Technically we’re outlaws.”   
“She wouldn’t rat us out.”   
Bruce sighed, “You don’t know that Dick. By law, I’m technically putting you in danger by allowing you to be Robin. Technically that is child abuse. She would be honor bound to report it.”   
Bruce watched as Dick stuck his bottom lip out, “So I can’t see Doc Harleen anymore.”   
Bruce gave him a small smile, “We’ll find new therapist Dick.”   
“Because it was so easy the last time.”   
Bruce shot Alfred a glare, before turning back to his paper. In the following weeks Bruce Wayne did everything possible to help his son, a term that had become commonplace in his head, with the transition.   
Trust was a hard thing to come by, but Dick seemed to have an abundance of it. He also had an abundance of stubbornness. Alfred had refused to take him to see the new therapists. He had been carefully showing his disapproval of Bruce’s decision to pull away from Doctor Quinzel in small ways; cold meals, no cookies, waking him up after only three hours sleep. But as always Bruce persevered.   
So he took Dick to each of his new doctors appointments. And he quickly found out what Alfred meant. He was lucky if the kid would even go in the room. Sometimes he would simply look at the person before turning to Bruce and saying, “Nope!” and walking out of the office.   
Then there were the doctors who flirted with him, Dick always seemed to give him a look that said, “Seriously?” Bruce never seemed to know how to respond to that. So, he quickly ushered his ward out of the office and off to ice cream. Until one day, several weeks later, they simply went straight to the ice cream parlor.   
“We should just come here twice a week. Ice cream therapy.”   
Bruce let out a laugh, “Alfred would kill us. I’ll already get a lecture about you spoiling your dinner.”   
    Dick shrugged, “Sorry I’m being difficult.”   
    “You’re not being difficult. You’re being selective. Finding someone you’re comfortable talking to is difficult. A test of courage. I was never brave enough to do it.”   
    “You talked with Doc Harleen.”   
    “Not really.”   
    Dick cocked his head to the side, “Why not? Why don’t you want to talk?”   
    Bruce knew the answer, admitting it out loud was a different matter altogether. After several minutes he finally admitted, “I don’t want to be hurt like that again. When my parents died my entire world came crashing down. I didn’t know how to cope, and so I started focusing on eliminating things that scared me. Fear of losing people, not being able to stop my parents’ death, pain that you can’t treat with medication.”   
    Dick stared at him thoughtfully for a minute before saying, “I think the cool thing about being human, is our capacity to love. To take another person into our heart, and cherish them. But when we start fearing loss, an inevitable part of life, we stop living. We become paralyzed by the fear, and we start cutting people off. And then we’re left all alone. At that point we have to ask, are we living, or simply existing?”   
    Bruce stared at his son, “Are you sure you’re eight?”   
    Dick smiled, “I’ll be nine in a month.”   
    Bruce laughed, “Then we should do something special!”   
    He watched Dick’s eyes light up, “Really.” Bruce smiled. This kid was his, and he’d do his best to love him and give him the world. Even if that meant apologizing to a nosy doctor.   
~~~~~~~~~~  
    Harleen’s heart was pounding a mile a minute. Her entire body ached, and blood stained her clothes. The warden of Arkham was bleeding out in the corner of the room, and she was simply doing her best to stay calm.   
    If he found her she was dead. Maybe worse. She knew the dangers he held. She had seen the madness in his eyes, and she had never been more terrified of a person in her life.


	5. Reveal

When the call comes through it doesn’t surprise Bruce. It had been nearly a month since the last uproar at Arkham, and they were more than a little overdue. He makes the conscious decision to leave Dick at home. That many supervillains in one place spells disaster and is out of Dick’s depth. The boy pouts but he doesn’t argue. 

It takes him little effort to break into Arkham. It takes even less effort to hack their security cameras. He wants to groan when he sees the ring leader, Joker. This battle is getting old in his opinion. That’s when he sees her, she’s laying on the floor, behind an obviously dead warden. He just barely catches the slight rise and fall of her chest. He scowls, and then he moves. 

It takes three hallways and taking down nearly thirty goons to get there. Instead of opening with a bang, he eases the door open. He doesn’t need attention drawn to him until he gets her out. He moves silently through the room and kneels next to her. He’s no sooner paced two fingers on his pulse before she’s turning and punching him. 

The mask makes the impact worse. And he groans a bit as he backs away. He blinks several times to find her there staring at him. She blinks twice before she scowls, “You have got to be kidding me.” 

It’s with that one sentence that Bruce realizes she’s figured it out. He keeps the voice though, “Let’s go.” 

She scowls, slips off her shoes, and follows behind him. Her voice is a hiss, as he dismantles all security cameras, he needs no evidence of her and him knowing each other. “This is why you walked out. I was getting too close.” 

He growls, “Not now.”

“Why not.” 

He turns on her, “Because we are currently in the middle of an insane asylum being run by a psychotic clown. I have to get you out, take him down, and get the cops in.”

She stares at him for a second before saying, “This is not over.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

He leads her to a vent, and gives her directions. She crawls in, but before she leaves she says, “We are going to have so many sessions about this, that you’re going to hate the sight of me.” 

His eye twitches, and he mutters, “Already halfway there.” 

The rest of the night is a blur. And by the time everything is said and done he is beyond sore, and ready for a bath. He doesn’t sit around and talk to Jim, he simply leaves. The cave is quite, a rare thing in the grand scheme of things. And he doesn’t realize she’s there until he’s out of his cowl and the top half of his suit.

“How did you get in here?” 

“Dick.” 

“Are you saying that so you don’t get Alfred in trouble or?” 

She rolls her eyes, “So you’re the batman.” 

“I thought we established that.” 

“And those years you were gone?” 

“Training?” 

“And this all came about because of your parents?” 

“Get out!” 

“No.” 

“You need help Bruce Wayne. Weather you want it or not. You need help.” 

He scowls at her, “I don’t need anyone.” 

“Not even Dick? What about Alfred? Let’s completely forget the fact that you’re letting a minor fight crime? What happens to him if something happens to you?”

“That’s why there’s Alfred.” 

“Bullshit.” 

He gapes at her, for a good minute before she says, “You can’t go on this way Bruce.” 

“Like what?” 

“With Bruce Wayne being the mask and Batman being the man. It’s not healthy. For you or Dick.”

He stops for a minute, “You called me Bruce.” 

She shrugs, “Part of the mask crumbled. You gave me something I can work with. I don’t exactly appreciate the fact that I nearly died . . . “ 

“By your own stubbornness . . .” 

“For it to happen. But I’ll work with what I have.” 

He takes a seat, “What do you want Doc?” 

“Two meetings a week with you. One a week with Dick. And one joint session on Saturdays.” 

“If I say yes?” 

“Then everything you do at night falls under doctor patient privilege.” 

“What about Dick?” 

She smiles, “He and I came to our own agreement.” He raises an eyebrow at that, and she shrugs, “No crime fighting on school nights, and nothing to do with anyone in Arkham.” 

He nods, before running a hand over his face. “Fair enough.” 

She takes a few steps closer to him, and looks at his bruised nose, “Sorry about that.” 

He shakes his head, “Not the worst thing to happen tonight.” That’s when she sees the scars littering his body, and nods.

“I’d imagine not. Let me help patch you up.” 

Bruce is too tired to argue, as he lets her clean and bandage wounds. When everything's said and done he trudges to bed, to tired to wonder where the hell the doctor is going to sleep. He’s out the second his head touches the pillow.


End file.
